A Cool Guy
by Setkia
Summary: Damn that Soul Evans. He really is a cool guy.


_**Author's Note:** Don't own **Soul Eater.**_

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 _ **A Cool Guy  
** by: Setkia_

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 **Damn that Soul Evans. He really _is_ a cool guy.**

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"Listen, Old Man, I wanted to talk to you about Maka."

Spirit glares at the white haired menace who has ruined his life. Things were so uncomplicated before this little tyke showed up. Things weren't _perfect_ , but since his appearance, Maka's dislike towards him seems to have grown, and she surrounds herself with untrustworthy men.

"Soul Eater."

The Scythe grins, his vampiric teeth gleaming. He doesn't understand why this _boy—_ because that's what he is, just a stupid little boy who doesn't understand the complexities of life— is the one Maka has grown so attached to. There's nothing spectacular about him, despite his offensive appearance. He raised Maka better than that, had he not?

"So, like I said, I wanna talk about Maka."

"What do you want with my girl?"

Soul frowns. "Don't talk about her like that. She's not property." He growls, like an animal in a cage. If he spoke to Lord Death, maybe they could get a cage for him. "I don't like you, and by that I mean I _abhor_ you," he looks satisfied, like this is something Maka's taught him, like he's expanded his vocabulary quite nicely. " _But_ , because I'm a cool guy, I thought I'd give you a heads up."

"Oh yeah? About what?"

"I'm going to marry your daughter."

Spirit blinks.

They're still here, in Spirit's office, the sun is still out, the second hand on the clock is still slowly ticking by, but it feels like everything has frozen. He can't have heard that right because Soul has made it evident, _more_ than evident, that he doesn't like his sweet little Maka _that way,_ which is the only thing that lets him sleep at night, knowing this boy shares an apartment with his sweet angel.

"Excuse me?" He hopes he sounds calm. He doesn't feel calm.

"Well, I mean, not yet, really," says Soul. "Because I haven't asked. And we're not exactly dating either, but I just wanted to let you know in advance, that I'm going to marry her. If, you know, she says yes. Because it's not your decision. I'm not asking for permission or anything like that, this isn't the 1800s, but I thought I'd let you know. I can barely respect you, but it would be really uncool of me to just go and marry your daughter."

Spirit leans back in his chair and schools a cool expression. "Who's to say she'll say yes?"

Soul shrugs. "No idea. She can say no, if she wants. I don't _need_ to marry her. I'd like to, and once I finally get around to asking her out, I'll be doing it with the intention of marrying her, but she doesn't have to agree. If she doesn't wanna marry me, that's cool. I'm just saying, heads up. Damn, this sounds so old fashioned, but it's not like she's going to be _mine_ after this or anything, since I don't think _anyone_ could own Maka, but …" Soul clicks his tongue, turning away from Spirit. "Just thought you should know. Because you can't stop us. If she says yes, that is."

He's barely able to control his voice as he says "You can't ask her."

"I _can't_?" Soul echoes through gritted teeth, like the indignant brat that he is. "Listen here old man, you don't control me, and you certainly don't control Maka. If I wanna ask her, I will."

"You keep saying 'if' she says yes. Sounds like you've got one foot out the door, if you ask me."

"Well, good thing I'm not asking." Soul falls back into his chair, crosses his legs and the muddy soles of his shoes disgust Spirit. The fact that his own shoes are in a less than pristine condition is irrelevant. "I'm not going to _make_ her, and I'll accept whatever answer she gives me. Cool guys don't pressure people into marrying them." There's something about his narrow gaze that feels like an accusation.

"You think you've got this all figured out, don't you?" the Death Scythe leers. "What about finances? Or children? Or keeping her safe?"

Soul rolls his eyes. "Firstly, I get paid by Lord Death himself. Second, if she wants kids, then we'll talk about it then, but at the moment? She doesn't want any, wants to focus on her career, which you would _know_ if you bothered to listen to her. And lastly, I've done of a hell of a better job protecting her than you ever have, _and_ I've got the scars to prove it."

Spirit grimaces, eyeing Soul's chest, where he knows there's a long, diagonal scar along his abdomen.

"You're talking like marriage would change her in any way, and it's not like I'd plan on it happening _now_ ," Soul shrugs, "I"m like, twenty-two, no one wants to get married that young. And she's still kind of saying fuck the patriarchy that makes women objects to their husbands, so _of course_ I wouldn't ask her now." He makes it sound so obvious, and if Spirit thinks about it, it is. "These are like, long-term, in ten years, sort of plans. We could just live together forever without the binding of the state, and that'd be cool. I mean, visitation rights are more or less the same for Weapon/Meister partners as they are for married ones." He uncrosses his legs. "Who's to say she'll say yes anyway?"

 _She will._

Spirit knows it. Because as much as he may hate the little rascal who has stolen his precious little girl from his hands, he does treat her well. He always makes sure she gets sleep on those days she overworks herself, and though he teases and pokes fun at her, he pushes her just the right amount in the right direction. He competes with her on an equal battlefield, and respects her even more than he admires her.

 _Maka_ was the one who came home and declared she was moving in with Soul, packed her bags without a second look back and immediately started scolding him for the state of his apartment. She wraps her arms around him on that Godawful motorcycle of his, and it's almost impossible to think "Soul" without thinking "Maka" and vice versa.

When Maka looks at Soul, she sees beyond the hair and the teeth and the skin and the eyes, and Soul understands her more than Spirit ever could.

She _will_ say yes.

He doesn't tell Soul that, though.

Instead, he tells him to get out of his office, and by the time the door closes, he's already planning how he'll cope with the wedding invitation.

Damn that Soul Evans. He really _is_ a cool guy.


End file.
